


Things which are worse

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [9]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Exhibitionism, M/M, Sadism, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Underage Sadist, Unwilling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: It would be an immense balm to his soul to actually offer his brother some small gesture of comfort, even if it’s only under orders. Red checks the cart, but the lowest shelf is empty of the small box of cleaning supplies Blue normally brings with him. Papyrus must have forgotten it.He looks hopefully at Chara. “I’ll go get the-”“That won’t be necessary,” Chara interrupts. “It’s just come. You can lick it off.”Red helps out with the morning chores.





	Things which are worse

Red’s first destination in the mornings is the kitchen. It’s subtly warmer in there than in the rest of the building, from the heat of the ovens or the general bustle of activity, Red isn’t sure. Blue is always awake first, and even on his own he can fill the large room with his presence, folding dough and stirring pots and bouncing around in the ridiculous ruffles he seems to favour. Blue’s quite happy to do all the talking, chatting inanely about recipes or tidbits of gossip he’s picked up from some of the other household servants, and though he’ll make a show of complaining he always lets Red steal bites of whatever he’s cooking – something to tide him over until breakfast is properly served. It’s surprisingly pleasant; domestic. Red likes it more than he probably should.

Today, Blue is conspicuously absent, and in his place is Papyrus, efficiently plating up the half-dozen dishes Chara demands for every meal, most of them desserts. It’s a little bewildering to see him wearing an apron (which must belong to Blue because it’s distinctly frilly), with his shirt-sleeves rolled up as he delicately stirs and tastes a small pot of heating chocolate before pouring it over a moist looking pudding.

“Where’s Blue?” he asks before thinking better of it and just backing out of the room before he can say a word. It’s not that…he doesn’t _hate_ Papyrus. The guy’s just doing his job, and Red knows all about necessary evils. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to go out of his way to spend time in his presence either, even if whatever he’s been cooking smells absolutely divine. He thinks it might be even better than Blue’s.

“Not feeling well,” Papyrus says shortly, though the gruffness may just be from distraction. He seems pretty focused on his work, and Red is just about to retreat and leave him to it when Papyrus adds, “I’m glad you’re here. I need to go check on him. Deliver this to Chara’s room, will you?”

He adds the last plates to the usual cart, covering the dishes to retain their heat, and then turns an expectant look on Red. He freezes, torn, but despite being phrased as a question he knows there’s no actual room for refusal.

“Y-yeah. Sure,” he says, keeping his gaze deferentially lowered. He approaches the cart, and Papyrus moves past him, stopping only long enough to pat him briefly on the skull.

“Just keep your head down and do whatever they tell you to,” he murmurs to Red. It’s straightforward advice, but somehow not reassuring. Red nods stiffly and begins the delicate process of maneuvering the cart through the long hallways towards Chara’s rooms.

He knows the route well, though he’s never had to travel it on his own before. Papyrus is always there, if Chara wants to play with him, and he’s never stopped to appreciate the implied protection of the taller skeleton’s presence. Red’s breath is already heaving in small, shallow pants as he wheels the cart up to the massive door and knocks.

“Come in, Red,” Chara sings out, and Red has to heave all of his body-weight against the door to shove it out of the way. He’s pretty sure that under the ornate veneer of mahogany, the door is made of metal. He imagines it’s bulletproof, fireproof, and probably resistant to explosives. He’s been trained to notice things like that.

Chara is on the bed as usual, draped in a soft silk robe and surrounded by their monitors. Red hasn’t ever seen them outside this room, and can only guess that the extensive surveillance helps to make up for their limited freedom. He knows better than to feel sorry for them, though.

“You brought breakfast?” Chara asks, smiling widely in a way that Red finds inherently disturbing. For a creature with lips, Chara shows way too many teeth. “Where’s Blue?”

Red’s pretty sure Chara already knows – there seems to be very little that goes in on the House that Chara doesn’t know – but if the kid wants to make conversation there’s really not anything he can do. “Papyrus says he’s not feeling well.”

“Ah,” Chara acknowledges, crawling across the enormous mattress to reach the end of the bed, and Red tries hard to look intimidated by their approach. He doesn’t quite succeed. “Poor thing. It must be really bad. Usually he loves joining me for breakfast.”

How can their smile go even wider? Red fights a shudder as Chara gently asks, “Would you like to join me instead? There’s enough to share.”

Unlike with Papyrus, Red isn’t sure if this was one of those non-questions. Chara’s bright-eyed curiosity seems to suggest he actually has a choice? Is it safe to refuse? He tries it, hesitantly. “No thank-you. I’m, uh. Not hungry yet.”

Chara nods knowingly. “That’s fine. I guess it’ll just be me and Edge today, huh?”

Red knows he shouldn’t, but at the reminder he can’t help glancing over to the skeleton kneeling and chained by the wall, his bright, alert gaze now focused hard on Red, furiously trying to communicate some sort of silent order, but there’s so many things tangled up in that stare that Red can’t figure out what he’s trying to say. He looks away, feeling guilty, feeling despicable.

“Though if Blue’s not here…you’ll have to attend to his usual duties,” Chara says mildly. Red blinks at him, uncomprehending, and Chara elaborates, “Edge had a rough night. I’m sure he’d appreciate getting cleaned up.”

He looks back at Edge again and, yes, his body bears the distinctive stains of his usual evening ‘training’. A few days previous, Papyrus had off-handedly mentioned that Edge’s behaviour has been improving markedly ever since Red joined the House, but that must not have held true last night because this morning he’s gagged again and scowling silently at the world. That only happens when he’s been fighting back, which Red is both relieved and distressed to see.

Dumbly, he takes a few steps closer, wondering if this might be the opportunity he and his brother have been waiting for…but no, not while Chara’s sharp eyes are watching them. However, it would be an immense balm to his soul to actually offer his brother some small gesture of comfort, even if it’s only under orders. He checks the cart, but the lowest shelf is empty of the small box of cleaning supplies Blue normally brings with him. Papyrus must have forgotten it.

He looks hopefully at Chara. “I’ll go get the-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Chara interrupts. “It’s just come. You can lick it off.”

His expression must be absolutely hilarious, because Chara’s eyes are dancing with silent laughter. He quickly glances at Edge, who stares back, equally aghast. “Lick it…?”

He’s too stunned to move as Chara approaches and gently guides him over to where Edge is kneeling. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Edge won’t hurt you. Well…not unless he wants his chains shortened again. But I’m sure he’d feel better if you cleaned him up too!”

Chara boldly reaches out and pats Edge on the top of the skull the same way Papyrus had done for Red earlier. “Edge…be a good boy for Red, okay?”

Edge flinches, but he isn’t even looking at Chara. His eyelights are locked on Red’s, who is standing over him now, physically closer than they’ve been in…months? More than a year? Red doesn’t even remember, which is disturbing in its own right.

It takes another prompting push from Chara before Red goes down reluctantly on his own knees, putting him at his brother’s level, and he fights to snap out of his daze because he can’t let it show that his hesitation is anything more than justified concern over being so close to a known, violent prisoner. Under any other circumstances he doesn’t think Edge would harm him, but this…his brother has always disliked being touched, and to endure illicit attentions from his sibling?

What a fucking mess.

Should he say something? Except he isn’t completely sure that wouldn’t just encourage Chara to do worse. Also, if his brother had wanted their relationship known, he would have said something himself, but he likely knows as much as Red does that exposing their bond will just result in it being used against them for Chara’s amusement.

He can’t do this.

But he can’t refuse. That would make it obvious that they know each other, and Red doesn’t think he can hold that secret for long if they force him to talk. He knows his own limitations. He’ll give in the moment they threaten his brother.

Shakily, he rests his hands on Edge’s shoulders, trying to read his expression. He wishes he could just _ask_ , but with the gag in place, Edge can’t even answer him. Edge’s eyelights are flickering frantically, but rather than trying to decipher their anxious message, Red finds himself staring at the tacky trails of come than have dripped over his brother’s chin. It’s tinted a pale orange, so he knows it belongs to Papyrus, and he’s seen how that happens; his brother’s body stiff and resisting but his jaw reluctantly open as the other skeleton thrusts into him, eyes hooded with approval.

His screws his own sockets shut, wondering if this could have been avoided if he’d just accepted Chara’s offer of breakfast. Fuckit, he’ll just have to do it fast.

His brother actually startles when Red lunges forward, making a muffled sound of protest that Red forces himself to ignore. The magic repression of his collar doesn’t inhibit the conjuring of his tongue, and Red tries to keep his mind perfectly blank as he licks a long, firm stripe up the length of his brother’s jaw.

It tastes sweet. He should have known to expect that. Papyrus’s magic has a tangy, syrupy taste that’s almost like honey. There’s something more though; a musky, spicy flavour that is distinctly his brother’s. The texture isn’t the most pleasant – dried, crusting come and cool dribbles of saliva that have  slithered helplessly past the gag – but Red is too focused to let it bother him. He’s had far less savory things in his mouth. He can deal.

“Good,” Chara approves from behind him, and Red clings to that praise, lets it encourage him even though each time his tongue laps against Edge’s chin and the base of his teeth he can feel his brother quivering in what he imagines must be disgust. He’s pretty sure his brother hasn’t been in captivity as long as he has, since Edge is still far too responsive. He squirms despite Red’s attempt to hold him still, and from the way his bones are heating, Red knows his brother is blushing furiously.

He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and, yes, Edge’s cheekbones are flushed with red magic, his eyesockets blown wide with shock. Red takes a few steadying breaths, trying to ignore the beseeching stare. Edge’s chin is mostly clean now, but he knows he’s not finished. There’s plenty of residue left on his neck and collarbones. His brother must have refused to swallow again; a petty defiance that nonetheless leaves a very inconvenient mess. Red shoves his brother’s chin back, earning another startled sound, and promptly gets to work.

Edge appreciates this even less. Red should have predicted that. His brother’s always been peculiarly sensitive around his cervical vertebrae, and baring his throat both figuratively and literally is inherently repugnant to him. Red has to lean uncomfortably close, practically straddling his brother’s lap in order to reach, and every place they touch is like a jolt of electricity against his bones. He’s not sure if his brother’s magic is actually trying to fight him off, or if he’s just imagining it.

“Stop moving!” he hisses, trying to spare his brother’s vertebrae from knocking against the sharp points of his teeth, but it’s damn difficult when he wont stop wriggling like a fussy babybones.

He thinks Edge tries to comply, but it’s hard to tell. The struggling lessens slightly, allowing Red to wrap his tongue around the slender bones of his brother’s throat and try suck away the sticky film of dried magic. Unfortunately, he hasn’t thought to account for the other reaction that was likely to cause.

His brother _groans,_ and it’s the same, wretchedly sinful sound Papyrus usually manages to coax from Edge when he can convince the other to enjoy himself against his will.

 _Fuck_ , he curses, hating himself, but Chara’s small hands are on his back, petting him encouragingly, and if he stops now he doesn’t think he’ll be able to continue. He wraps his arms around his brother’s ribcage, supporting the awkward angle as he moves lower, delving into the notch beneath Edge’s clavicle to reach where the residue has congealed below his sternum. Desperately, he tries to block out the sound, but its useless. The hum of reluctant pleasure thrums through the length of Edge’s spine, rumbling in his chest where it’s pressed against Red’s own and–

–he feels something in his own chest spasm, like whiplash, like falling, fear and joy and the awful bracing before the deadly landing.

_No no no, not now!_

But of course his Soul doesn’t listen to him any more. It bursts into being, bright and raw and already overflowing with all the emotions he’s been vainly trying to stamp down and not feel. All the regret and longing and horrible, horrible devotion to his brother that has his soul immediately leaping forward to press against the underside of his ribs, stretching pitifully towards Edge in a way that’s just horrifically earnest.

As if that weren’t enough, it’s _dripping_ too, because these days the merest suggestion of anything even faintly arousing has his soul slicking up like a wanton whore and he _shouldn’t_ feel that way from hearing his _brother_ moan _god fucking damnit_ , but apparently any shred of decency was stripped away along with the rest of his control.

He realises after a moment that he’s still holding on to Edge, practically clinging to him as he tries to calm down from the immediate, overwhelming rush that always happens when his soul slips out. He backs away hastily, sliding out of his brother’s lap and into Chara, but the damage is done. His soul has oozed a shower of silvery fluid not just onto his own bones, but on Edge’s as well. There’s a slick smear on his chest and, worse, a wide splatter that’s dripped down into the crevice of his pelvis that Red’s shorts didn’t manage to catch. Red stares, feeling positively mortified and, disgustingly, even more aroused at the sheer indecency of it.

“Red, you were supposed to be helping him get clean, not even more dirty!” Chara scolds playfully, sounding vastly amused. “Now you have even more work to do.”

Red’s soul is pulsing so hard it’s almost painful. Edge is pressed back against the wall, still quivering slightly, looking completely bewildered and so very unprepared. Red bites back a sound that might be an awful, agonised laugh. Or maybe a sob.

“I…can’t.”

Chara’s eerie eyes pierce him, though their expression is strangely blank. “You can’t?”

Red shakes his head violently. “I…he wouldn’t want…” _No, shit, don’t say anything like that, you might let something slip._ “I’m not very good at-” _Fuck, they’ve already seen you do this for Papyrus, they’re not gonna buy it._ “Edge is gonna-” _hurt me_. _Say it like you believe it, maybe they’ll feel sorry for you, maybe you can stall long enough that Papyrus will show up and take care of this, damnit_ -!

A soft, human hand rests gently on his shoulder. Chara’s expression is entirely benevolent. “Okay. I understand. Let’s try something else.”

Somehow Red knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the 'something else’ is going to be much worse.


End file.
